Since Neville and Quirrell's affair, the Gryffindor students have become much more united.

Morgan didn't ask those classmates for help in vain, and everyone sent out a simplified version of the design of the Golden Flying Hero drone.

Of course, Morgan didn't give much, and among the 115 drawings of the design drawings, Morgan gave 15 of them, which correspond to the balance system, flight system and energy source system of the drone.

Even the other Morgans didn't give it at all.

In particular, the most critical core of the hive control system, Morgan has never had the idea of decentralizing it.

In other words, without a hive control system, when students play with drones, they can only control them one-on-one, and they can't control 3,000 at a time like Morgan.

While this compressed version is too simple compared to Morgan's Golden Flyer drone, it's a good thing for students.

In the past few days, those senior students have analyzed some of the weaknesses of the Golden Flying Hero drone.

For example, it is not resistant to attacks, and then it has fewer functions or something.

If you force them to give them detailed design drawings, they will not be able to make a move.

Now give them an idea, and they can turn the sky upside down.

Seeing everyone happily running out to study their own drones, Morgan breathed a sigh of relief and found a place to sleep well.

He is the busiest one these days, everything is up to him, and the final battle is also taken care of by him, and he is even so busy that he doesn't have time to take a look at the increase in his system level because of the surprise money in the past few days.

Not to mention finding a place to sleep.

Now he just wants to get a good night's sleep, and the rest will be talked about later.

When Morgan went to sleep, in Dumbledore's office, the four House Deans were there.

They looked at Quirrell as he was dying, and the expressions on his faces were different.

They are all clever wizards, and their vision is beyond the level of normal people, and of course they can see what Quirrell is all about.

This is clearly the result of the possession of the soul and the forced absorption of the life force.

As for some of Morgan's attacks, they were all trivial, at most they electrocuted Quirrell's body black, and it didn't have much effect.

Didn't you see that Dumbledore's hands were scorched at the end, and he was still alive and well.

Only forcibly being drained of life force is the greatest harm to the wizard.

Snape, as a Potions Master, saw Quirrell's situation at a glance.

"It's useless, it's already cold, bury it."

Looking at Quirrell, who was almost out of breath, Dumbledore blinked, "Severus, how about doing me a favor." ”

"No, he can't be saved, I think it's better to forget it, it just so happens that I know a team of coffin bearers, we can sing and send him away." Snape's tongue was definitely poisonous, and even if Quirrell was dying, he wanted to say something.

"Severus, we can't let him die here like this, we have to think about the child's reputation, do me a favor, save him, even if he dies in the Ministry of Magic in the end, he will die in Azkaban."

Snape snorted, fumbled through his black robes, and pulled out a test-tube-like bottle.

The bottle looked thin and long, and contained three drops of three different colors of liquid, which could be seen as a complete set of potions, as evidenced by the fact that these three drops of liquid did not blend together and were attracted to each other.

Not knowing how Snape did this, he pushed the vial forward.

"After drinking, as long as you don't lose your breath, you can maintain your life for twenty-four hours, and after twenty-four hours, you will be absolutely hopeless. In addition, there is no other potion for him to drink in the past twenty-four hours, whether it is a confession potion or a truth elixir, as long as he drinks the potion, he will only have half an hour's life, you pay attention to yourself. ”

Of course, Dumbledore understood what Snape meant, and this was to take the blame for himself.

Twenty-four hours was enough, and if the Ministry of Magic couldn't ask anything for twenty-four hours, they would be stupid.

Dumbledore wasn't going to carry such a pot on his back again, and the most he wanted to do now was to send Quirrell out.

As for who to give it to, don't worry at all, when Harry came to inform Dumbledore, Dumbledore sent a letter to the Minister of Magic, the one named Fudge.

Now that Fudge was on his way, Dumbledore saw that Quirrell was getting weaker and weaker, and he didn't bother to wait for Fudge to come, so he stepped forward and pulled Quirrell's mouth open and poured the potion inside.

The three drops were green, blue-gray, and silvery-white, and they didn't look like a good thing.

After dropping into Quirrell's mouth, Quirrell, who was already about to lose his breath, suddenly opened his eyes as if he had returned to the light.

But Quirrell was fast, Dumbledore was even faster, and he pointed his wand at Quirrell's eyebrows, and Quirrell was able to control him.

At the same time, Dumbledore was still observant of Quirrell's situation.

At this time, Quirrell's injuries were recovering at an incredible speed, whether it was a wound that was electrified, or a wound caused by physical damage such as a steel needle and a circular saw.

Even the twisted limbs were twisted back.

It can be seen that Snape's potion was made to make people die more completely.

If Quirrell's hand had been cut off in the previous battle, he might have been able to grow a new arm.

After being suppressed by Dumbledore, Quirrell realized what had happened to him.

His expression darkened at first, and then there was a mad excitement in his eyes.

"I'm not going to say anything."

"I'm not going to ask." Dumbledore snapped.

Quirrell, who was about to express his greatness, was scolded back by this sentence, and the heroic and invincible momentum that he had finally generated was gone, and he changed back to his previous submissive and trembling appearance.

The few people present are all human spirits who don't know how many years they have lived, and they can't see the situation here, and they don't need to speak, just stare there.

Sure enough, under the watchful eyes of five powerful wizards, no matter how strong the psychological ability is, even the most cowardly person, let alone a guy like Quirrell who is frightened.

Quirrell hesitated, gritted his teeth, and looked back at Dumbledore with a hint of anticipation in his eyes.

"If, I say, if I say everything, headmaster, can you, can you help......"

"No, you only have twenty-four hours to live, and the result is the same whether you say it or not." Snape interrupted Quirrell's words directly, and his last hope.